35,000 feet, and nothing to drink

No one expects good wine on an airplane anymore. So when an e-mail arrived recently touting the Delta Winemaker Series, I was intrigued.

Master sommelier Andrea Robinson, Delta’s official wine person since 2008, selected a range of California wines for transcontinental service for the JFK-SFO and JFK-LAX runs. The wines veered from somewhat obvious (Mondavi Fumé Blanc) to curious (La Sirena Syrah) to crowdpleasing (Merry Edwards Sauvignon Blanc). I figured these would be poured a couple at a time — real wine bottles are heavy and, having run more than my share of weight-and-balance calculations over the years, I don’t expect an airplane to be stocked with even a modest cellar. Still, it was an impressive addition to an aircraft galley.

Since I have been regularly flying the SFO-JFK route on Delta for several years now, that should have been exciting news — except that the wines were only for Delta’s BusinessElite cabin, which I’m not going to be traveling in anytime soon. (Even if I hadn’t scuttled my status with a brief, ill-conceived stint with United, Delta’s enormous post-merger ranks of elites mean I’m not about to get upgraded in the near future.)

No surprise that finer wine choices would be saved for business class; that used to be a standard perk before airlines decided to trim costs by lowballing their wine selections. And I would even pay to drink those wines on board, but we all know airlines don’t allow beverages to cross cabins.

I would have dropped it all, but for one thing. I had just flown that exact route, in steerage as usual, and witnessed flight attendants serving one of the worst on-board wine options I’d seen in years: Hacienda, a bottom-tier label from Fred Franzia’s Bronco Wine Co. that I would later describe to a Delta rep as “the kissing cousin of Two Buck Chuck … also the generally dust-covered label of choice at some of San Francisco’s less esteemed bodegas.” Franzia would surely take me to task for my elitist view of Hacienda. But even within his lineup, it’s not a shining light.

My late August flight had been oversold. So I was surrounded by a lot of Delta elites who hadn’t gotten their upgrades, were clearly thirsty and were whipping out their American Express platinum cards to enjoy a glass of wine, such as it was, with their snack boxes. (I usually don’t drink during a flight, but when I do, I opt for Delta’s generally good choice of hard liquor, including Glenlivet scotch. At $7 it costs the same as the wine.) Now, mind you, they were selling this wine. It isn’t the same sort of built-in cost as those pretzels and cans of Bloody Mary mix.

Why, I wondered, would Delta bother to create a prestigious free wine program when it clearly had a complete disregard for what it sells in the back of the plane?

‘In line with industry offerings’I’ve spent enough time covering the aviation industry to know that airlines really only care about the in-flight experience of their most lucrative customers. But even with U.S. airlines’ ridiculously low cost of goods for wine — somewhere between 50 cents and $1 per serving — there surely must have been a choice of a less grubby wine without sacrificing what equates to something like a seven-fold price markup. So I responded, asking, among other things, whether Hacienda was “consistent with their brand positioning.”

After 10 days, a response: “Master Sommelier Andrea Robinson curates the wine offerings for Delta’s BusinessElite cabin,” said Delta spokeswoman Chris Kelly Singley in an e-mailed statement. “The selections for Delta’s economy cabin are made in-house and are in line with industry offerings.”

So, it’s not Robinson’s fault that all the other wine on Delta sucks?

Probably so. But Delta clearly cares enough about its wine selection to pitch Robinson’s choices as an elite perk.

Granted, the state of in-flight wine nowadays is abysmal; even Air France has been reduced to serving the sort of Colombard-Chardonnay rotgut that shows up on the bottom shelf at the hypermarché — although it’s free, and its beverage carts still come supplied with bottles of Champagne. (They may be airline executives, but they are still French.) But to sink to the bottom tier of California’s cheapest? I’m not sure I’d agree that’s in line with industry offerings.

Seeking distractionsAlaska Airlines, for instance, continues its tradition of serving Northwest wines and beers; surely it can’t be a much worse proposition to sell me a $6 bottle of Alaskan Amber than it is to pour a $7 eyedropper of Hacienda? And if the newly merged United took months to settle on a new coffee blend, surely some level of concern remains among airline food-service directors about how their choices impact the brand.

Clearly Delta wants to make a good impression with its elites these days. In addition to the fancy wine, they have unveiled a business-class menu designed by Michael Chiarello. (By one recent report, it is sadly less in spirit with Chiarello’s Yountville joint, Bottega, than with Olive Garden.) Everyone knows that airlines have sliced away every last amenity to try and forestall the eventual reckoning of their screwy economics. So they’re constantly seeking to tout anything that might distract us from the general awfulness of modern-day air travel.

The on-board video that starts each Delta flight includes a message from CEO Richard Anderson about the airline’s values, notably “mutual respect.” And therein, our cautionary tale.

If as an airline you take wine seriously enough to hire an industry star to curate selections that will add sheen to your brand, you’d better carry that sense of quality into economy class. Otherwise, your bad taste reflects directly back on your airline — official sommeliers and all. When you don’t respect your paying customers enough to serve us something decent to drink, it’s a safe bet we’re not about to offer mutual respect.